Four Letters
by ifonly13
Summary: Sometimes four letters is all it takes.  Rating is for safety in case future chapters take their own direction.
1. Burn

_A/N: This is the start of what I hope will become a collection of one-shots all centered around the same thing: four letters._

_This first one, Burn, comes from the title word given to me by two people: tellmeyouneedme and allusiontoanillusion._

_**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing of Castle.**  
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><p>The fire was pretty. The flames tickled the top of the stove, caressing the black iron as they danced.<p>

She paused her motions long enough to watch the yellows and reds weave together. She was sitting cross-legged in front of the little standalone wood stove in the kitchen, the one she only turned on when it was freezing or when she wanted the comfort of the crackling of wood. Tonight, it had a different purpose.

The pile of papers next to her was chaotic. It had started as a neat stack, everything in its place when she sat down. Now, after almost an hour of activity, the sheets and cards and photos were scattered across the kitchen floor. Dates, times, locations, and faces stared at her as she worked, slowly now that some of the adrenaline had moved through her system.

The knock at the door drew her out of the trace of repeated motions. Leaving the fire crackling in the kitchen, she padded over to the door, checking the peephole out of habit though she knew it could only be one person.

He was bundled up against the cold, snowflakes melting on the dark wool of his peacoat and dampening his hair.

"Hey," he said, his teeth chattering a little.

Kate was blocking the door, refusing him entry even as he moved to go inside. "It's not a good time right now, Castle." Her voice sounded detached even to her own ears.

But he could read her like one of his books. Even as she tried to hide like some elusive symbol in the pages of the novel, he knew exactly how to tease her out, to prod until he found her. "Come on, Kate." He didn't touch her but made his intention to get into her apartment clear.

She shifted, shaking her head. "Seriously. Forget it."

"No." She looked up in surprise. "You don't need to be alone tonight. Let me in."

She shivered, wanting to take him up on the offer, not only for the night but forever. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, trying to glare through the exhaustion. "Castle…"

"At least let me warm up before I brave Snowmageddon out there again."

The plea snuck through a crack in her shell and she let a small smile creep onto her face at the name the news was giving the snowstorm. The first smile on the one day only he could make her smile.

"Hot chocolate or coffee?" she offered, trailing behind him to the kitchen, heading to the Keurig machine she had splurged on for her birthday last year. The little bowl of grounds and chocolate powder and tea leaves were easier than waiting for coffee to brew or water to boil. She pulled down two mugs, turning to face him when he didn't answer. "Castle?"

He had frozen in the middle of the kitchen. And she only realized her mistake when she followed his line of sight.

"Shit…"

"Kate. What is this?" His eyes were flicking from the pieces of paper up to her face as he spoke.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Kate set the mugs on the counter and walked over to him, staying a few paces behind his body. "My mom's case."

The fire gave a violent snap and Kate flinched.

"What are you…?" he trailed off, leaving the question unfinished. He hadn't turned to look back at her, a fact Kate was eternally grateful for; she didn't think she could stand to see whatever emotion would be in his eyes.

Kate forced her voice to sound as nonchalant as possible, certain she was failing. "Burning it."

He whirled around, the sudden motion making her dizzy. "What?"

"I'm letting go." She met his eyes even though the normally teasing blue depths were confused and a little hurt. "It's not going to define me anymore."

"But this?" he said with a wave of his hand at the stove, the pile of notes and pictures next to it. "This isn't the right way, Kate."

The softness of his voice set her on edge instead of comforting her. She crossed her arms, shrugging. "It's working for me."

He took a step forward. She held her ground, his chest brushing her arms. "Really? Burning the case is working for you, is helping you get over it?"

"Yes."

"Kate, they're just piece of paper."

She moved from in front of him, going to stand next to the chair in the living room, her back to him. Her hands held her elbows, crossing her body. It was a futile attempt to keep herself together in while he was here. "Which is why it isn't a big deal."

His shoulder bumped hers as he circled around her. "Not a big deal? I've known you for four years and this has been your one constant. Why choose now to cast free?"

"Maybe I found a new constant." Her eyes were trained on the ground, refusing to look at him. Hoping that he understood what she wasn't saying out loud.

He tilted her chin up and was immediately struck at the emotion her eyes held, wondering how those little green circles could contain it all without letting it spill out. "You know I'll always be here for you. But as much as you think you can set that case aside, you need that closure. The same closure you bring the other victims. And now you can't because it's all ashes."

The disappointment and sadness in his voice sounded so genuine that Kate had to fight back tears. "That's not entirely true." She walked into the office, leaned against the frame as he followed her in.

There, taped up on the pane and the wooden frame, was her mother's case. Just as it had always been since she had started the faux murder board a year ago. Some of the notes were faded from sunlight, others newly taped up with recent information and breaks.

"How…?"

Kate smiled, reaching her hand out to take his fingers. The contact surprised him so he didn't move his hand to wrap around her slim fingers. "Coping mechanism I worked out with my therapist back before I met you. When it gets to be too much, I make copies of everything and burn it. Lets me feel free of it for a few days. I don't look at the board or any of the papers. I forget about it. Just for a while, long enough to get my feet under me again."

"And it has worked in the past?"

"Yeah. Especially on this night."

January 9th. The anniversary. The reason he was here in the first place having found the single cab still out on the streets and begged the driver to get him to her apartment. So she wouldn't be alone, left thinking about what had happened since then.

He tugged his hand from hers. "That hot chocolate offer still stand?"

"Of course."

They returned to the kitchen and she started up the machine, popping the little cup of cocoa powder in and hitting a button. The smell of chocolate filled the apartment instantly, a comforting scent mixed with the smoke from the fire. He stopped in front of the stove again. Now that the flames had died down, a chill settled on the floor. A grin pulled at his lips when the old saying filled his mind. _Heat rises._

A glance over at the woman in the kitchen, taking down the little jar of marshmallow crème and scooping a spoonful out to place in their cocoa told him the saying remained true, in real life as in fiction.

"So, we can burn the rest of this?" he asked, taking the mug from her, the heat from the liquid burning his fingertips as he rotated the mug to hold the handle.

Kate nodded, sipping at the hot chocolate. "Definitely. It's getting chilly." She leaned over, picking up a little handful of notecards and tossed them into the fire. The flames took the offering, rising up to curl on the top of the stove.

For the night, at least, that part of her was able to be burned away, leaving her cleansed.

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><p><em>AN: So, first installment - done. Special thanks to thejetsetgirl of tumblr - she spent time creating a floorplan of Kate's apartment and was helpful in answering my questions about the stove in the apartment. As a writer, getting the details is important to me and she was a great help!_

_I've got a huge list from people on tumblr and from the chatroom post-Kill Shot. I'm writing which ever words speak to me when I sit down. You have a word for me (remember - only four letters!), send it to me in a review._

_Speaking of reviews, give me some to read on the drive back home for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Please?_


	2. Fear

_**Disclaimer: What if I said I did own Castle? What would you all do then? (This is a hypothetical question since I do not actually own Castle.)**_

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><p>Kate was certain she knew what fear felt like.<p>

There was the fear that came that first night out on the streets, armed with her gun, some pepper spray, and her shiny new badge from the Academy. She was shaking like a leaf in a Category 5 hurricane. Royce had laughed at her as she quadruple checked everything, including her hair. He had claimed that she was 'acting like a girl, not a cop' as he ruffled the top of her head, pulling out wisps of brown hair from her neat bun. Even with the solid man at her side, she was terrified. It wasn't like she hadn't walked New York City streets at night – her film theory class in junior year got out at ten and she always walked the few blocks back to the apartment instead of wasting money on a cab ride – but it was different now. Now, she was responsible for protecting those students hurrying back from class, the homeless that lined the streets, and the other cops that had her back. That fear of letting them down kept her alert at the best of times, drove her to recklessness at the worst.

Then there was the fear from almost losing her father just months after her mother was taken from her. Those nights when he wouldn't show up to a dinner date and she'd run to his apartment, barefoot with her heels hooked on her fingers, shoving past pedestrians and tourists. The last time a parent didn't show up to dinner, the worst thing imaginable had happened. Kate couldn't say that fumbling with the extra key to his apartment, opening the door, and finding her father passed out on the ground was any better than finding another cop at her doorstep, but at least he was alive, breathing. There were a few times she was sure he wasn't going to wake up no matter how many times she tried to rouse him. But each time, he came to, either with just her screams to wake him up or with the assistance of doctors and nurses and a night spent in the hospital. It was after one such incident as she sat by his bedside in her uniform, clutching her cap as if it were the only thing tethering her to the real world, that she made him promise to get help. The fear was still there as he started going to meetings and talking to a therapist but it wasn't as tight a vise around her throat as it had been.

Castle brought an entirely different kind of fear to the workplace. She had always been able to rely on Esposito and Ryan; they were fellow cops, brothers in blue who knew what they were doing in the field. They knew how to behave on case so she had never had to watch them too carefully. But Richard Castle had no idea what he was doing no matter how many times he spewed out details from the Diagnostic and Statistical Manuel of Mental Disorders. The fear of him getting hurt on her watch niggled at the back of her brain each time they stepped out of her car at a scene or for an interview from the very first case. It reached a climax during the Triple Killer's return when Martha called to tell her something was wrong with her son, that he had spoken the three words he hardly ever said. The fear that Kate would have to become that cop that knocked on the familiar red door of his apartment and tell Martha and Alexis their son and father wouldn't be coming home drove her up the stairs of the cheap motel, had her kicking in the door without waiting for backup to get in place with her. She had shined the flashlight on him with shaking hands, waiting to see the gentle rise and fall of his chest before she let herself breathe again. Letting the fear go for the moment.

In the past year, the fear of losing him had taken over. She needed him in her sights, knowing for sure that he was okay, that he was still cracking bad jokes and spinning insane theories about the CIA. She had to see his eyes sparkling with barely contained laughter to feel stable. That hostage situation at the bank years ago had been her worst nightmare. To think that she would never have a chance to say those three words that she so desperately wanted to give him cut to her core. She didn't say them after she knew he was okay; the moment wasn't right. So she waited, looking for the heartbeat of an instant that told her she was ready to put those words out there. Once they entered the world, they couldn't be taken back and she wanted to do it right. But, in the meantime, she kept him close. More coffee dates, a few more visits to the loft for dinner with his family, longer nights together in the precinct staring at the whiteboard. Anything to make sure that fear of losing her partner stayed tampered down.

She would have pegged the constant state of alert her body was on after her shooting as the height of her ability to feel fear. Everything was amplified. A glint from Castle's watch would look like the flash of a sniper's scope. The backfire of a car became a gunshot. Every motion brought with it the chance of setting her off. It was the most out of control she had ever felt and that terrified her. She was always the one who had a cool head, the one pulling others out of the darkness. Nights spent hiding under her covers, her gun cradled against her chest as she shook had convinced her this was the peak of her fear. What could feel worse than the type of fear that gripped you without ever really releasing you?

But the fear she felt now rose above all of the previous incarnations of the emotion. And it was all because of the blue eyes looking at her, waiting. Given, it was a completely different kind of fear than the others. She wasn't shaking or crying or hyperventilating. This fear was internalized, a war between her heart and her head.

And he kept watching her, licking his lips nervously. This time, his hands were the ones trembling. It was his breath that was labored.

She needed to put him out of a pain she was so used to. Kate reached down, covered his hands with one of hers, the metal circle he held poking her palm even as she smiled. The free hand rested against his cheek, her fingertips brushing the hairs at his temple. She let a single tear slip over the edge of her eye, feeling it fall onto her forearm even as she leaned forward.

"Yes."

Suddenly, all of the fear in both of them was gone, at least for the moment.

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><p><em>AN: Okay, so I say this about a lot of my stories, but I like this one. A lot. After 30 minutes of scrolling up and down the extensive list of words I have gathered, hoping for that mythical bolt of lightning called inspiration to strike, I hit on "fear." And this is what came of it. And I am quite pleased, if I may say so myself. (omgitshopey gave me this word.)_

_You all know the drill by now. Reviews lead to happy Logan. Happy Logan leads to a Logan that wants to write. A Logan that wants to write leads to more stories for you. It's cyclical._


	3. Lace

_A/N: Happy Thanksgiving, readers! Every day, I am more and more thankful for your kind words about my writing; you truly give me hope that I could make a living writing. So, fellow Americans, let's take today to stuff ourselves with turkey and potatoes and stuffing and pies. And then stuff ourselves with leftovers for the next week._

_**Disclaimer: While I am thankful for the writers and owners of Castle, I am not one of them.**  
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><p>The sight of her had him frozen in place. He had tried to mentally prepare himself for the image as he walked from the car to her room. But every possibility in his imagination had failed miserably compared to the real thing.<p>

She was a vision. From behind, he could have sworn that the woman standing in front of him, surrounded by friends flicking at strands of her hair or rearranging the flowers in the bouquets, was his wife. But it wasn't.

"Katie?"

The young woman spun around, her short train spinning behind her parallel to her loose brown waves. A smile that could have eclipsed the sun itself had spread across her face as she stood in the middle of the chaos.

He took a step into the room, swallowing the knot in his throat as he pulled her close, his nose buried into her hair as she squeezed her hands against his back.

"You look so beautiful, Katie," he whispered just loud enough for only her to hear.

The silence in the room should have been deafening but he didn't notice. His daughter's smile was the only thing that mattered, the sparkle in her eyes a combination of tears and pure elation. She hugged him again, her arms tight around his neck like they had been when she was a little girl, her head against his chest.

"God, you are so beautiful. Just like your mother." He felt her tense for a moment, then her whole body relaxed. "She'd be so happy for you. She is happy for you."

His fingers ran over the edge of the lace on her dress. Johanna had worn lace on their wedding day as well. She had been less than pleased; every woman in her family had worn the material somewhere on their dress the day they gave up their last name. But Johanna had been the strong, independent lawyer. She didn't want to conform to the rules of the past, never one to be bound by precedent even outside the courtroom. Still, a firm talking to from her mother and aunts and cousins that had married before her had her picking out a lace dress for the wedding. Johanna had found ways to sneak her own touches into the rather traditional ceremony, sending teasing glances in his direction each time he found one.

But Katie had wanted the lace. She hadn't come out and told him straight off, but he knew it was a subtle nod to her mother, just like one of the empty chairs out on the patio for the ceremony.

"Thanks, Dad."

He let her pull back, resisting the urge to hug her again. And again and again. Because she was here, alive and happy and completely head-over-heels in love with the man in the other room.

"Actually, I'm glad you're here. Could you do the honors?" she asked, holding out the two items she hadn't let out of her sight those first years after Johanna's death; his watch and her ring.

He hesitated, his fingers running over the battered leather band of his old watch as he picked them up from her hands. "Katie, this seems out of place at your wedding. Do you really want it in all the pictures and -"

Her slim fingers settled over his as he turned the watch over and over, halting the motion. "Yes." Her smile reassured him more than her words. "I want it in all the pictures and out there for everyone to see. It's part of me, just like you are part of me. And I don't care if it doesn't match lace or anything else."

"Okay then." She had used that same tone that Johanna had used with him every time he questioned a choice of hers. The voice that told him to just do it, that she knew what she was asking. His fingers trembled a little as he slipped the watch into place on his daughter's slender wrist. She let the chain of the ring fall into his palm.

He ran a finger over the little blue stone. It wasn't one of the important rings between a husband and a wife. Johanna had loved this one for its simplicity. A tiny sapphire set in silver filigree. It was one she wore every day on the opposite hand of her engagement and wedding bands. He lifted his eyes in time to meet her moss green ones.

"Well? You going to turn around so I can put this on?" he asked with a grin, holding up the chain.

Kate pivoted, sweeping her hair out of the way and looking over her shoulder. "Careful of the dress."

The dress that still had him catching his breath. Simplicity and complexity woven together into a creation that mirrored the woman wearing it. Soft white cloth with the lace over it, a gentle A-line down to the short train that he was now stepping around. He gave her bare shoulder a little shove. "Don't you worry about your dress."

He didn't just mean worrying about his shoes tromping on the delicate fabric. Kate had nothing to worry about with her choice of dress or her choice of future husband or her choice of family. She had gotten everything just right.

Once the chain was clasped, he watched her hand come up to press the circle of silver into the skin of her chest. Before the moment could become too solemn, he lifted her left arm up, twisting his head to check the time in his own watch on her wrist.

"Looks like it's time." He looked over at her face, his quiet eyes reading the emotions flickering across it. "You ready?"

"Yeah, Dad. I'm ready."

As her friends burst into movement after becoming statues for their exchange, he looped her arm through his, his fingers brushing the lace once again as they followed the petite medical examiner toward the door.

He leaned down as they walked, whispering once again, "I love you, Katie."

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><p><em>AN: This is a sort-of companion piece to _The Best is Yet to Come_. Sort of. We get to see Jim Beckett's thoughts on his daughter's wedding, which was actually the first thing I thought of after remembering that Kate's dress was lace in that wedding story._

_Forgot to add this when I first published it, but this word prompt came from AliasCSINYFriendsER._

_I'm thankful for reviews. Give me things to wake up to after my food coma._


	4. Kiss

_A/N: It's a day late, but this one goes out to a very special person. (You'll know who by the end of the story and I'll tell you if you can't guess.)_

_**Disclaimer: Negative on the owning of Castle.**_

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><p>It was bright outside and he hated it. He hated that the sun decided to show its face the day he most wanted the weather to reflect his mood. He longed for rain and thunderstorms and lightning breaking across the sky of the suburbs of New York City. Instead, he got rays of sunshine and the fluffy clouds that were only seen in paintings.<p>

Footsteps on the stairs had him moving from his seat in the office to stand in the foyer. As his youngest, Chistina, reached the bottom step, he stepped forward for a hug.

"Where're my girls?" His voice was loud, as cheerful as the weather. He had to keep it that way for their sake.

She walked over as he added, "Come give your old man a kiss."

The girl boosted up on her toes to place a kiss on her father's cheek as he glanced over her shoulder at her sister, still typing away on her cell phone as she walked down the steps.

"Hey," he said sharply, the warmth weaving its way through his voice, "get off that phone and give me a kiss."

Samantha snapped the phone shut and kissed the same cheek as Christina. As she stepped back, their hands linking for a second before his fell to his side.

"You know I'm so proud of both of you." It was a struggle for him to control the emotion in his voice, to not let anything slip out that would give something away. Something like the fact that he may never see them again.

The two of them rolled their eyes as Samantha muttered, "Dad…"

He had to tear his eyes away from their gazes and the motion was aided by the fact his wife was coming down the stairs, her arms full with bags for work. "Come on. In the car, you two." She reached the bottom step, grabbing up the car keys. "Come on, let's go."

Christina waved as they walked out the front door. "Bye, Daddy."

"Bye," he responded, feeling his throat clog up a little.

Evelyn repeated the word right before giving him a kiss, her briefcase bumping against his leg. As she moved to follow their children out to the car, he pulled on her fingertips to keep her in place. He wanted so badly to do something to keep them together, not sure if that meant grabbing the keys and running away with them or going out on his own to find the bastard behind everything. But in that instant, Roy knew that he didn't want to have his last kiss with his wife be a quick peck before she ran off to work.

He caught her chin on his thumb and brought her lips back against his. It was gentle and sweet, her fingers coming up to rest on his cheek. The smile on her face nearly outshone the sun and forced that dagger in his heart a little further in.

"What's that for?" she asked, still grinning as he ran his knuckle over her jawline.

He shrugged, trying to sound as normal as possible. The wavering in his voice told him he failed. "I love you," he said with a shrug, glancing away for a second before her face drew his eyes back. He didn't want to leave her for a moment.

"I know," she said with a nod.

Their eyes connected as she smiled. Then, she leaned forward and gave him another peck before dashing out the door.

He fought the urge to run after her. Instead, he stood in the doorway and waved, closing the door on his life, but letting that last kiss linger on his lips.

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><p><em>AN: Was this a little surprise? Did you all expect a kiss between our dashing duo? Or even between our favorite medical examiner and her Latino boyfriend (I'm still convinced they should and will be together)? Well, **surprise!** Honestly, this was actually the first thing that came to mind when I was looking for my next word. The only sad part about writing this was that I had to go and watch that scene half a dozen times to get motions and lines down and it killed me knowing what was coming next._

_This one goes out to our Captain. Happy 55th Birthday, Ruben! (Yes, a day late, so I supposed 'belated' should be in there somewhere...)_

_timandera gave me this word prompt. _

_You know the deal - review and I write faster. (I swear I do.)_


	5. Fall

_A/N: Today was a slow writing day. I tapped myself dry from my fantastic writing day yesterday after my food coma nap. But I wanted to get something out and this one is short and sweet._

_**Disclaimer: No. Just no.**  
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><p>It didn't happen often. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time it had occurred. There were always near misses, more than a few almosts. But never the actual event.<p>

Until today.

They had been walking through Central Park with a possible suspect as he traversed the park in the middle of Manhattan to get to work. The trees were changing colors, leaves crunching under their feet. A breeze was playing with her hair, the ends tickling Castle's face. Some city worker had made a sea of leaves along the side of the walkway.

One of these deep oceans of orange and brown and dark red disguised a pothole.

Which Kate stepped in and twisted her ankle. She didn't quite scream, but there was a squeak that escaped her lips as she started toward the ground. The suspect stepped away from her flailing arms.

Castle caught her, his fingers holding onto her upper arms as she steadied herself. The palest of pinks was coloring her cheeks and Castle knew it had nothing to do with the wind.

"Thank you," she whispered, her breathing heavy from the rush of adrenaline. Her fingers shook as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear, testing her ankle as she braced her forearms on his, wrapping her hands around his elbows.

The ankle sung as she put some weight on it and Kate clenched her teeth.

"You break your foot, Detective?"

Both Kate's and Castle's eyes turned to the other man, standing a few feet from them, forgotten until he spoke. She shook her head, trying to smile a little. "Nope. Just a sprain probably. You know what? We'll talk later at the precinct, okay?"

The other man shrugged and ran off toward his destination.

"Sprained?" Castle's voice was full of concern, his eyes trained on the woman's face for a sign of more pain than she let on.

Kate lifted the foot off the ground, twirled the ankle until the burn of the muscles stopped her. "Yeah. Probably." Her eyes were bashful as she looked up at him. "You mind lending an arm to get us back to the car?"

The going was slow and Castle made sure to aim clear of the piles of leaves along the edge. At the car, she handed over the keys knowing her right foot was bound to cramp up and make driving even the short distance back to the precinct dangerous.

As their fingers brushed against the key ring, Castle leaned over, his nose nudging her hair away from her ear as he murmured, "I'll always catch you when you fall, Beckett."

He turned away immediately and he missed her poorly executed attempt to hide her smile by catching the corner of her lower lip between her teeth as she pulled the door open and slid into the passenger seat.

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><p><em>AN: As someone who has done exactly what Kate did, I can attest to the pain of a sprained ankle. Except mine was in sneakers and not heels, so... But this turned out sweet and fluffy at the end. I'm happy with it._

_"Fall" was given to me by sometimesitseasiertolie and omgitshopey._

_Review away! You have my permission._


	6. Cool

_**Disclaimer: They're just my friends, not my property.**  
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><p>He had flowers in his hands when he knocked on her door. They weren't roses; that was so cliché that he avoided those particular blooms at all costs. Instead, he held nine red tulips in the plastic wrap from the florist shop, the crinkling of the shrink wrap filling the hallway as he waited for her to answer the door.<p>

She took his breath away when she opened the plain white door. She always took his breath away, whether it was in jeans and a sweater in the precinct or times like now where she wore a deep purple dress that swirled around her legs.

"Hey." She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking up at him as she moved aside for him to come in.

Castle stepped into the apartment, turning to hand her the flowers after she closed the door. "These are for you."

Her smile was wide as she unwrapped the tulips on the walk to the kitchen. "I certainly hope so. They're lovely." She found a vase, a porcelain one with a blue design on it reminiscent of Mediterranean art. She set the vase with the tulips on the coffee table in the living room before looking back at him. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah." Kate leaned on the wall as she slipped on her black heels and felt Castle's eyes on her. She glanced up and he continued talking. "I was thinking we could go to-"

"I made reservations."

He trailed off after her interruption. "You what?"

Kate was halfway out the door when he jogged to catch up. "Made reservations. For dinner." She spun around and tweaked his nose playfully. "Trust me, will you?"

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><p>"Kate, it's not that I don't have confidence in you, but, really?"<p>

The cab had dropped them off outside a hot dog place. Castle looked concerned while Kate bounced on the balls of her feet. Once the taxi pulled away, she started toward the plain doors of the restaurant.

"Haven't you heard the saying 'don't judge a book by its cover,' Castle?" She flashed a grin over her shoulder as she held the door to Crif Dogs open for him. "Because the same basic principle applies here." He was moving to sit at one of the tables in the restaurant when Kate grabbed his arm. "This way."

She pulled him toward a set of folding doors in the corner of the hot dog shop. Kate was becoming more and more excited as they went, feeding off of Castle's confusion at their location. Roles were reversed and she was loving it.

The little phone booth was a tight squeeze for them but Kate secretly enjoyed feeling Castle's side pressed against her back. He was so solid and warm that Kate actually hesitated in picking up the phone, wanting to stay with him forever in this place. But she was hungry and she was sure he was as well.

So she picked up the phone and managed to shush him with her hand over his mouth at the same time. Kate hit the call button once and cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder.

"Kate, what is this?" His lips slid against her palm, the tickling making her giggle.

With the hand freed from holding the receiver, Kate waved at the upper corner of the booth. There was a click and a secret door opened behind them. She replaced the phone on the hook and turned around. His arms came around her waist, giving her a tug closer to his chest.

After a quick kiss, his went back to questioning her. "Seriously. This is a little creepy."

"No. This is all sorts of cool, Castle. Now turn around so we can go in."

The little hallway was lit by a single sconce on the wall as she gave him a shove on his chest. It opened to a room that was a quiet roar of activity. Tables were pushed against exposed brick walls, a few black leather booths in horseshoes along the back. Nearly every seat, upholstered in tan suede, was taken in the room. A few were free at the long copper-topped bar, a young man mixing drinks, the sounds of ice cubes joining in the radio as it played U2.

"What is this place?"

Kate grinned, scooting around his body to pull him toward an open table in the back. "A secret."

A waiter appeared from midair and took their drink orders. As she unfolded the napkin and laid the cream fabric over the deep purple of her skirt, Kate watched Castle's face. He wasn't looking at one thing for long, darting from the deer heads over the bar to the old photos to the wide range of people seated around them. Some were dressed up while others were in jeans and sports jerseys.

"It has to have a name, though." His eyes were bright with amusement now, not concern, as he looked across the table at her. "Share, Detective."

Kate looked smug as she scanned the menu. "It's called Please Don't Tell. Reservations only. Takes some serious strings to get in since they usually fill up their reservation list by three fifteen after opening phone lines at three."

"Well, I'm glad I never doubted you." He ignored her little glare and continued on. "Because this place is really, really cool." Castle leaned across the table to place a kiss on her lips before the waiter returned with drinks to take their order. He caught her eye roll before they ordered dinner. After the waiter left again, he gave Kate a light kick under the table even as he took her hand on the surface. "You're pretty cool, too."

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><p><em>AN: Yes, this restaurant is a real place. I learned about it when Jewel Staite (fellow Browncoats will recognize her name) tweeted the link to her blog which consists mostly of food. I read it because I, too, enjoy food. And she mentioned it. And I was intrigued and knew that it would be a great date location for our daring duo. Google it. It's pretty cool. __That said, I have never been there. The description comes from photos found on other food websites and various Google images._

_Review away! I do adore all of your kind words._


	7. Void

_A/N: So, rerun of Heroes and Villains tonight. At least we get that and no episode at all, right? (Positive thinking over here.)_

_**Disclaimer: Only a genius like Andrew Marlowe and his crew could come up with the fantastic thing that will be the 40's episode... Not me.**  
><em>

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><p>"I don't know how to do it." Her voice sounded impossibly small in the room. For the first time in weeks, she was back to curling her legs up against her chest, her arms wrapped around her shins with her head resting on her knee. Her hair was loose around her face, the soft curls caressing her cheeks and ears. Closing herself off from the world instead of opening up.<p>

His voice was the opposite; strong and assured as he sat back in his matching chair. "Just say it." He stopped her protest with a single raised finger. "I know it's hard, Kate. But I guarantee that you'll feel better once it is out in the open. You don't even need to tell him first. Tell your father, a close friend. Practice saying the words."

"No." She looked up at him, shaking her head without lifting it from her knee. "If I say it, it's going to be to him, not my dad or Lanie. But what if he doesn't want to hear..."

"There's a possibility that he will turn away at first, yes. Kate, he's your partner. Sometimes you need to leap and trust that he'll be there to catch you." He smiled gently. "And from what you've told me about him, I'm sure he'll be waiting with his arms open."

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><p>They were leaving the precinct late again. Everyone else had gone home hours earlier, but she wanted to finish up the paperwork for the case and he didn't mind waiting. The paperwork was a pitiful excuse, actually. She was terrified and it was a convenient reason to put off the trip to the elevator with him. Completely scared of the man next to her, playing Fruit Ninja on his iPhone. The irrationality of it all had her giggling, drawing his attention away from the watermelon on his screen.<p>

"Beckett, what part of this murder is amusing?" he asked, setting the phone on the corner of her desk. "Because I recall many a time when I was scolded for laughing at cases."

She stopped, a hand over her mouth as she shook her head. Yeah, she was afraid of this next step. "I'm just tired, Castle." Kate clicked the end of the pen and put it back in the mug on her desk. "You know what? Let's call it a night. Paperwork can hold off until tomorrow."

It was a miracle that she was able to put on her jacket and button it without shaking. He was a silent strength at her shoulder on the walk over to the elevator, reaching around her to press the down button.

"Plans for the rest of the evening, Detective?" he asked as they waited for the antique elevator to climb to their floor.

_Shrug nonchalantly, Kate_, she told herself. Her body obeyed. "Hot shower and bed."

The doors opened and she forced herself to step inside. He was chatting, the words not reaching her brain as she watched the floor numbers light up as they passed them. Suddenly, her hand darted out and hit the emergency stop button. The car screeched to a halt and the both of them stumbled a little with the abrupt motion.

"Kate, what're you-"

Her expression told him to stop. She looked pained, her hands twisting together as she paced the short length of the elevator.

"What's wrong? Is it the case? Because that's wrapped up as neatly as you can make it. Just hand it off to the district attorneys and let them take it from there. I mean, it sucks but that's all we can do, right? You don't get to pick the guilty one. They're the ones that make that decision to take someone's life in the first place." She hadn't spoken so he continued guessing. "Or is it your dad?" Kate shook her head. "No? Okay, ummm… I feel like this is a round of Twenty Questions." The little joke didn't draw a smile from her. "Oh, God, Kate. Is it you? Are you okay?"

That laugh was there again, bubbling out of her without her permission. "No. I'm really not." Taking the deepest breath possible, Kate faced him. "Listen and don't talk. This is hard enough without being interrupted. Can you handle that?" He nodded quickly, looking more than a little concerned. "When my mom was murdered, it left a void in me. It wasn't for another dozen years that I found a way to start plugging that hole." Kate watched as he puzzled out the math but she didn't pause for long. "Months ago, I would have been the first to admit that recent events might have caused a setback in that process, but then I realized that it wasn't a setback at all. It was a push forward. Because of you."

For the first time since she started, Kate looked up at him. "Kate…"

"Shush." She smiled to hide her nerves. Then, with a final hope that Dr. Burke was right with this, she stood her ground in the middle of the elevator and said it. "I love you."

Once the words were out in the open, Kate suddenly felt both freed and trapped. She was liberated from holding the words hostage for so long. Her heart was released of the painful belt that had been cinched a few notches too tight for months. Then the look in his eyes had her feeling like the elevator, stopped between floors, was the worst possible place for this confession. She had nowhere to run to now and he was standing near the buttons, making it impossible for her to start the elevator up again.

He was just looking at her, his mouth hanging open slightly.

"You can say something now." He didn't. Kate hated that she sounded like she was begging. "Please, Castle."

"Kate, I…" He looked away for a moment, dragging his hand through his hair.

She didn't move from the center of the car and he looked surprised when she was still there as he turned around. Kate ventured a smile and felt her heart expand when it was returned.

"How big is this hole now?"

"Getting smaller every day, thanks to you."

He stepped forward, one hand tentatively resting on her elbow. "Any way we can make it smaller right now?"

She managed to hum out "mmhmm" before he kissed her gently. He gave her a light tug from her elbow and she moved closer, her arms sneaking up to hold onto his biceps.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened.

"Heading out for the evening, Detective?"

They sprung apart, a blush creeping onto Kate's face as she tried to smile at the desk sergeant now looking the two of them over with a grin. "Yeah. Have a good night, Sarge."

Kate made sure they were out of earshot when she hissed, "When did the elevator start moving again?"

"No idea. Certainly ruined a nice moment we were having in there though."

She didn't expect him to twirl her around, press her against the side of her car once they reached the battered blue Crown Vic, and finish the interrupted moment. Whispering against her lips, he asked, "How's the void now?"

"Nearly gone. It's missing one thing, though."

A last kiss gave her the final piece to plug the hole in her heart. "Love you, Kate."

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><p>"I said it."<p>

"And?"

Kate's smile was heartfelt for the first time since she had walked into this room almost a year ago. "It's gone. That void. It's all him now."

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><p><em>AN: So we got the elevator involved in the relationship. It is probably the biggest shipper after the coffee machine, in my opinion._

_This prompt came from allusiontoanillusion!_

_Here's the part where you share your opinions with me and make me smile. And I do love to smile, folks._


	8. Sexy

_A/N: This walks the fine line between T and M. Proceed at your own risk. (It's short and even if you do read it and you are below the tender age of eighteen, you will not be scarred for life. Promise.)_

_**Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish...**  
><em>

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><p>Her dark hair ticked his lips as she smiled down at him. A giggle escaped her as she let her lips meet his, gentle and soft.<p>

"What's so funny?"

His voice rumbled up along her thighs to her own chest, releasing another peal of laughter from her as she trailed her fingertips along his jawline. "Nothing." But her lips were pursed together in an attempt to halt further laughter as she kissed him. "Nothing at all."

He reached up to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing over the crest of her cheekbone. "That was definitely a something, Kate."

"Seriously? You're going to argue with me right now?"

"Now that you mention it, no."

The next kiss was fierce. His fingers gripped her waist as she threaded her fingers through his hair. She gasped as he traced her lip with his tongue. She was smiling against his lips when he rolled them over. Her hand reached back, grabbing the pillow as he pressed her into the mattress. When he pulled back, letting them both finally take gasping breaths, she pushed her head up to lick his lower lip.

"That was tricky, Castle."

"You loved it," he replied, capturing her mouth again.

His fingers were tugging at the waistband of her underwear when her phone rang. The angry vibrations it sent out as it skittered on the bedside table mirrored the frustrated growl of "Good God" against her lips.

Even her hand shook as she grabbed the offending device and checked the caller ID, distracted by the kisses he continued to pepper along her throat and collar.

"Beckett."

Castle heard Ryan's voice on the other end, rattling off an address. She found a pen and took his arm, writing the address down across the skin of his forearm. The ballpoint tickled. He groaned when she hung up on the other detective, letting her arm fall onto the pillow.

"Your team does not have good timing."

She sighed, her free hand coming up to brush her hair from her face. "Tell me about it." Then she gave him a gentle shove on his shoulder. "Up we get. There's a body on the Upper West."

He hoped he never got tired of seeing her move across the bedroom in just her underwear to dig out clothing from his closet. He didn't realize he was staring until she turned around, jeans and pale pink button-up in hand, and raised a brow.

"Right. Crime scene. Clothes." He scrambled out of bed to find his own clothes, but not before tugging her by the wrist up against him to plant a final kiss on her lips. "We'll continue this later."

She gave him a peck before heading toward the bathroom. "Count on it, Castle."

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><p><em>AN: This was inspired by a .gif on tumblr. I'll be reblogging it if you want to check it out._

_In addition to that .gif, the word was suggested by merakix. Thanks, dood!_

_I have "Wine" in the works and, fingers crossed, will have that out by the end of the weekend. I do have a four hour break between my play's dress rehearsal and my holiday concert tomorrow to write in._


	9. Hair

_A/N: It's been a while for this story. You can blame finals..._

_**Disclaimer: Speaking of finals, I don't think the Castle writers are stressing over those at the moment.**  
><em>

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><p>She loves his hair.<p>

When she woke up, her face jammed into the pillow so only one eye could open, it was the first thing she saw. It was a mess from sleep, sticking up in places while being flattened along his skull in others. She liked to examine it, how the colors shifted in the sunlight or in the soft glow from the lamp on the bedside table or in the darkness.

She reached out, taking a few strands between her fingers, and twirled them into a loose twist. They slipped from her fingers and she picked another section to twist. She liked doing this when he was still snoring lightly. Her sentimentality toward him was getting more obvious as her hormones continued to play games with her emotions.

The muscle of his arm under her neck jumped and she knew he was awake.

"'Morning," she mumbled into the pillowcase, shifting her head so she could look at him as his eyes opened slowly, a smile spreading over his face.

His fingers, which had been teasing the ends of her tangled hair, scooped up into the soft curls to cup the back of her head. "Good morning."

She shifted, pressing her round stomach against his side. "Need to shower. Hair's gross."

"No it's not," he replied, rubbing his fingers into the roots before settling his mouth over hers for a moment. "It's perfect."

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><p>He loves her hair.<p>

It tumbled over his arm, the one that she had fallen asleep on last night as she cuddled into his side. He was able to run his fingers through the ends where it curled gently. He still remembered when it was short, barely reaching her chin, a dark brown cap over her head. Then it had gone almost red as it grew out, brushing her shoulders. Then was the deep brown before it had lightened and grown out. She had never explained to him why it was that she had let it go until it reached the middle of her waist but he wasn't complaining.

He could feel her playing with his hair, twirling the brown strands around her fingers but resisted the urge to open his eyes to watch her. She was surprisingly shy in the morning, especially when she was being doting. It had been happening more and more, growing along with her stomach. Again, he wasn't complaining.

As he twisted his hand to catch more of her hair, she felt her move her head to murmur, "'Morning."

He smiled, letting his eyes open to catch her still-sleepy hazel ones. "Good morning."

"Need to shower," she said as she rolled closer to him. The gentle weight of her stomach settled on his left side. "Hair's gross."

He scratched her skill tenderly as he turned his head to face her. "No, it's not. It's perfect," he said as he kissed her, welcoming the three of them to a new day.

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><p><em>AN: Yes, it's short. There will be longer ones once finals are over and I'm home on my couch, being lazy._

_This prompt came from _annieporcupine.__

__Reviews will make my stress level a little more bearable. You could be helping my mental health. Just sayin'...__


	10. Rose

_A/N: This one is angsty. I cried while writing it. Keep tissues handy._

_**Disclaimer: I never want the writers to do what I'm about to do in this story.**  
><em>

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><p>He bought her a single rose.<p>

He had done the same thing on their first real date. He had wanted to get her two dozen, having looked up the symbolism behind stem counts online during his free time. That meant he was all hers. But two dozen roses was over-the-top, even for him, and especially on a first date. So he had stuck with a single red rose. She had taken it, smiled as he warned her to be careful of the thorns, and pulled at the navy ribbon he had tied around the stem, letting the thin fabric slide through her fingers. That rose had sat on her desk until it wilted. He had plucked it out of the little vase at that point and pressed it in the pages of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. She had laughed at his choice of book, teasing him that using the DSM implied she was insane.

Then, he had bought fifteen roses and had them sent to her apartment. They had fought, voices escalating until he was sure most of Manhattan and the outer boroughs could hear. He couldn't honestly remember what they had been fighting over which usually meant it was small and insignificant, but he did remember her face as she had slammed the door behind her. Fifteen roses meant an apology. And she accepted, showing up at the doorstep with the bouquet in her arms and tears still wet on her cheeks, babbling that she was sorry too.

They hadn't had roses in the wedding. It was expected and that wasn't them.

Four roses. One for each member of the family. That's how many arrived at the hospital room just minutes after their daughter was born. He hadn't even left the room to order them, calling the florist as he sat next to her and watched the doctors check on the newborn. He had marveled at how her face seemed to light up further, something he thought was impossible at the moment, when the nurse from the front desk carries in the vase. As they held their daughter, Alexis standing with her hand on his shoulder, he described the meaning behind the number of flowers in the plain white porcelain vase on the bedside table.

He got her nine roses when Alexis got married, whispering into her ear that they'd always be together. Then he had taken the bouquet from her hands, tugged her up into his arms from the couch, and danced with her in the moonlight streaming into the living room until their daughter cried and the moment was over. But the words still lingered. They'd always be together.

Another was added to the family, requiring the delivery of five stems to the same hospital room. Somehow, they had managed to squeeze everyone onto the bed to look at the baby wrapped in a soft blue blanket. This time, Alexis wasn't there; she was in D.C. for a conference and couldn't get back to the city in time. He had called her with updates, texting her nonstop until he couldn't any longer due to the fact he had a five year old in his lap and their surprise son sleeping between he and his wife, tiny fists curled up to his face.

He got her thirteen roses on their ten year anniversary. When she had looked up the significance of the number, he explained that they had started as friends so it was only fitting to honor their beginnings. They'd placed that vase of roses on the kitchen counter, out of reach of the children who could break the glass or prick their fingers on the thorns, a fear held in high regard by their son who had just finished another viewing of _Sleeping Beauty_ with his sister and was already plotting ways to get his sibling to prick her finger and wait for Prince Charming to wake her up.

There had to have been two hundred roses there. He was sure he had bought every single one on the island of Manhattan and even traveled to the boroughs to find more. And still it wasn't enough. He kept hoping that if he brought enough of the flowers there, if he could just show the universe that she was important, then she'd be back. She'd drive up in her beat-up Crown Vic and yell at him for making a fuss over nothing. But that wasn't going to happen thanks to the crazed drug dealer who had taken her from him. And he had to keep some sort of strong front, especially with their daughter in his arms and their son wrapped around his leg, both clinging to him as if he were their only anchor to the world. Little did they know, he was relying on them to keep him grounded and alive.

So this time, he had a single rose. The ribbon was the same navy blue as the very first he had given her. The satin slipped against his fingers as he smoothed it down, looking at the flower rather than the scenery passing by. None of them spoke as they got out of the car and walked over to the polished stone. The others hung back. Their son picked up his daughter, their granddaughter, and balanced her on his hip, reaching out for his sister's hand with his free one. Alone at the base of the grave, he knelt down, placing the rose along the bottom, arranging the bow so the ribbon fell over the edge of the granite.

In a voice tired from time but still clear and strong with emotion, he whispered, "I still love you, Kate. Always."

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><p><em>AN: If you can find the time between tears and the time when you may want to murder me while I sleep, review. This one came to me pretty quickly after worldinheaven suggested the word._


	11. Back

_A/N: It's short. Blame finals. (But it is sweet to make up for "Rose." There will be more sweet coming up until I balance out the angst from the last chapter.)_

_**Disclaimer: No. Just, no.**  
><em>

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><p>She hated to admit it, but she missed him.<p>

A lot.

Not just the little ache that crept into her chest when she had given him one last hug before he went through security in the airport. That had faded after the cab dropped her off outside the apartment. The place was hers for the week; Alexis was off at Cornell with finals on her shoulders and Martha had found her own apartment nearby. The loft was silent, missing his laughter and the music he had to play in order to write and the sounds of him cooking dinner for the two of them and his whispered words as they stretched out on the couch to watch romantic comedies.

Then she started to miss him at the precinct. She missed his crazy theories that lightened the mood of a place defined by death. She found herself without coffee in the morning four days ago, forgetting that she would need to stop at the coffee shop since he wouldn't waltz in with it for her. They still managed to close the single case that rolled across her desk, but the investigation lacked the dramatic flair that only he could bring to the tedious steps of interviewing and re-interviewing.

Today, there had been a package waiting for her with Eduardo, who smiled kindly at her as she scribbled her name on the delivery sheet. She was exhausted and her signature looked nothing like her name, but she was lucky she even remembered the correct order of the letters. Sitting on the couch, she opened the plain brown box to find a notebook. It was soft, tan leather pressed with an iron to leave dark swirls and vines with leaves on the cover.

"You like it?"

He loved seeing her jump so high that she nearly tumbled off the couch. Even with a hand on the ground, holding herself halfway on the couch, she managed to glare at him.

"What're you doing here?" she asked, letting herself slide off the couch to sit against it. He was in the doorway of the study, his hands in the pockets of his jeans and his hair looking like he had spent the morning dragging his hands through it. Utterly irresistible.

Castle stepped forward, giving a little shrug to accompany his smile. "Last I checked, it was my name on the lease." She rolled her eyes, not even attempting to hide her smile. "Paula cancelled the signing in Ottowa so I was able to get here early." He stopped a foot in front of her, crouching down so they were at eye-level. "I missed you too much, Kate," he murmured, brushing a hand over the loose tendrils of hair near her ear.

Her next move surprised him. Kate let the notebook fall to the ground as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt her sigh before giving a single, short laugh, her breath a warm blanket over his skin.

"I'm so glad you're back, Castle."


	12. Book

_A/N: Oh look! A longer one! Hope this further evens the field after "Rose."_

_Annieporcupine gave this word to me and picked it as one to create fluff from!_

_**Disclaimer: I don't own even a bit of Castle.**_

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><p>It was pouring. Not the normal rain that New York always got. This time, it was the type that was able to wash away the thick caking of dirt on the sidewalks, carrying pieces of rubbish and plastic bags along full-blown streams lining the streets. She was certain it was cold out; it didn't look like the type of rain that would be warm and inviting.<p>

Thanks to her hellish work ethic, Kate had vacation days piled up higher than the Statue of Liberty. She snagged one for today, calling in and letting the desk sergeant know she wouldn't be making an appearance. The man told her to stay dry and enjoy the day off.

Wearing her pajamas, Kate slid from the bed, her feet instantly chilled by the cold floorboards, a reminder that she needs to find a rug for the room. It was so rare for her to take a day off, especially an impromptu one spurred on by a rainstorm, that Kate really had no idea what to do with her newfound time. A cup of coffee managed to wake up some of her neurons.

She could watch a movie. Her fingers skimmed over the row of DVDs, some of them still sealed with those annoying anti-theft stickers, others so well-worn that the plastic of the covers was ripped. But as she sat in front of the movies, Kate knew she didn't feel like watching something.

Next to be examined was the neverending supply of books. It was her first day off in far too long; she wanted to enjoy herself, not learn something. That ruled out nonfiction. Kate shifted down the section of books and found herself face-to-face with his collection. Sometimes she felt a tinge of embarrassment that every single one of them was hardcover. She had searched for days for the first few he had written since most of them were in paperback only printings. One of them was out of line on the shelf, something that never happened.

She let her pointer finger hook around the spine of the book, giving it a tug out. It was obviously the one calling to be read today.

Kate laughs when she sees which book was standing out of line. It had been the hardest to track down and she still remembered her joy when someone had brought the already worn book out of the back of a used bookstore. Even now, it made her smile, though another reason was layered over that original happiness.

Sitting on the couch, her legs curled up under her, Kate flipped the cover open.

She threw the book across the room, watching as a small circle rolled under her coffee table. In the same motion, she was off the couch and searching for the phone she had left on her comforter. It didn't ring once before he had picked up.

"What the hell is that?" she yelled, not bothering to control her volume.

He sounded genuinely surprised when he responded with, "What is what?"

The glaring eye-roll could have been verbal; he was certainly able to hear and imagine it perfectly. "You know what I'm talking about."

Oh yes. That. The little thing he had snuck into her apartment to plant a month ago while she was running down a lead with Esposito. He didn't expect her to find it so soon; she never had time to read and the odds that she would pick that book out of the mini-library she had growing in her apartment were comfortable enough for him to take the chance. He hadn't counted on her taking the day off and didn't have a response for her statement other than, "Oh?"

"Don't 'oh' me, Castle. Explain yourself."

She was standing at the edge of the coffee table, looking at the ground but refusing to kneel down and see that object again. She was actually hoping it had been a figment of her over-worked mind. She is completely ignoring the book, currently facedown with the spine cracked somewhere near her dining room table.

"Well, I should think it is obvious."

"Really, Castle?" she asked, pacing the length of the room, dragging her free hand through her hair. "That's how you're choosing to propose?"

Because that was a diamond ring that had rolled under her coffee table. A ring that had sat in a neat little space cut into the depths of one of his books. The book that had changed everything between them.

"Seemed fitting, doesn't it?" There was a slight hesitation, then his voice rose a bit. "Did you want flowers and dinner and bended knee and all that? Because I can be at your place in twenty if you need me to do-"

"Shush, you silly man," she muttered, actually placing a finger over the speaker of the phone as if it would halt his words. "Yes."

He didn't hold in his whoop of joy before she heard the rustling of fabric. She assumed he was running out the door to grab a cab. So she stopped him with another warning.

"Castle. You had better bring something to defend yourself with for cutting up my copy."

The laughter from the phone had her smiling as she bent over to pick up the engagement ring. "Please, Kate. It was a copy from the publisher. I know better with you." He hung up.

Kate picked up the book, smoothing the cover as if to apologize for her earlier behavior. He was right. His choice of book to destroy in order to build something more with her was perfect. Now to wait for the foolish man to get here so she could either kiss him or kick him for doing that to any book.

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><p><em>AN: I want guesses as to which book he used to propose to her with! I know exactly which one it is, but I'd be interested to see what you readers believe it to be. Also, reviews. They would be nice as well, especially during this time of finals stress._


	13. Heat

_**Disclaimer: They're not mine.**  
><em>

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><p>New York City was sweltering in the mid-July heat. People were hiding in the subway tunnels where the pounding sun couldn't reach them. Others called into work, using sick days or vacation time to wheedle their way out of leaving their air conditioned apartments.<p>

Kate Beckett didn't have that type of luxury.

"Did you know that as the amount of ice cream bought goes up, so does the number of murders?"

She turned, forcing a smile through the exhaustion and oppressive heat. "Did you know that's a false correlation, right?" she said, taking the coffee he was holding out to her.

He sighed dramatically. "Oh good. I'd hate to have to stop buying ice cream if that was leading to the spike in our dear city's crime rate." He took a sip of his iced coffee, still unsure of how she was able to stand drinking her lattes hot during the summer. "What happened here?"

"Pretty basic. He thought she was sleeping around." Kate was pointing to the body of the woman on the ground. "Didn't bother talking to her. Just shot her and shoved her out the window."

They started back toward the mouth of the alley. The heat was more intense without the walls of buildings protecting them. Her car was like a furnace and rolling the windows down didn't help.

"I'll drop you at your place," she said, the heavy breeze from the window causing her hair, tied up into a ponytail, to spin around her face. "It's like cruel and unusual punishment to be out in this weather."

"Where're you going?" he asked, watching the condensation from his cup roll over his hand.

She shrugged. "Home. Paperwork will hold until tomorrow. Hopefully the heat wave will break by then with the storm coming in tonight."

After kicking him out of the car in front of his building, Kate swung by her favorite Italian restaurant and got a to-go container of their pasta and meatballs for dinner. The elevator in the building was broken, the super still swearing that he was going to get it fixed soon, so she climbed the two flights of stairs to her floor. She had to take a shower, get the layer of sweat from the day off her skin, before she could change into loose running shorts and a tank top.

Just as she sat down with her re-heated Italian, someone knocked. She opened her door to find Castle standing on the other side.

"What're you doing here?" she asked even as he pushed past her into the apartment.

"God, is your air conditioning broken?"

"Yeah." Kate picked up the glass of water from the counter, taking a sip of it as he turned around in the living room. "Why are you here instead of at your own place?"

Just as he opened his mouth to explain, the lights in the apartment shuddered off. Immediately, neighbors started yelling while points of light came to life in apartments across the street, showing that people had prepared with flashlights.

"Well…" Castle trailed off as his eyes started adjusting to the darkness. "You don't happen to have some candles handy, do you?"

He could hear her moving through the apartment. "Why, Castle? Looking to re-create a scene from one of your books?"

There was the snap of a cupboard before he saw a flash of light as she struck a match. Her face was only half-illuminated as she used the single point of light to find the candle on her stove. Even in the low light, Castle could see the little smile as she passed him with the candle in her hand.

"Maybe," he murmured, following her as she searched out the other candles she had set out in case of a blackout.

When she turned around, he was close enough that their chests brushed each other. She gave him a shove, stepping past him. "Not a chance in hell."

"It's hot enough to be considered hell."

"Yes, well, I'm lacking tequila and limes at the moment, so the best I can offer is water." Kate was back at the kitchen counter, filling up her glass again.

He appeared next to her, taking down another glass, and holding it out to her. "It'll have to do."

She filled it, handed it over to him as she picked up the candle and brought it to the coffee table. Kate placed the plate of spaghetti on one thigh, twirling her fork so the noodles spun around the metal tongs. "Why are you here?"

Castle sat next to her, watching as she chewed on her dinner. "Checking in on you, Detective."

"I'm a big girl, Castle. I can handle the heat."

He reached over and plucked a slice of meatball from her plate, popping it into his mouth. "Oh, I have no doubt of that."

The next time he attempted to steal a piece of her dinner, Kate slapped him with the fork. "Quit it, Castle."

So he just sat and watched her eat. Her hair was sticking to her forehead, curling tighter than usual from the humidity in the air. Still beautiful, even in heat so oppressive that it could have made Victoria's Secret models wilt. But not Kate Beckett. Not even the heat could touch her.

"You're staring."

He shook his head as her words broke through his thoughts. "Huh?"

Kate's eyes cut over to him, her fork halfway to her mouth. "You're staring at me, Castle. While I'm eating."

"I guess I am… Weird."

Outside, the first jagged flash of lightning broke through the sky with the accompanying rumble of thunder. Just as quickly, rain started pounding on the roofs and windows of the city. Castle could almost hear the sidewalks sizzle with the water like some sort of huge frying pan.

"Looks like the heat wave's broken," she mused, looking out the window at the sheets of rain.

"Thank goodness. I could probably feel my blood boiling."

Kate stood up with her plate, gesturing toward the door. "So, now that we've established that it is finally going to start cooling down, will you go home to your family?" She spoke from the sink as she washed the plate and set it on the drying rack. "Because I'm just going to head to bed and hope the lights are on when I wake up."

He headed toward the exit and snagged her wrist before she could close the door. "Last chance. You sure you don't have tequila stashed somewhere?" he said with a raised brow.

Despite her best intentions, Kate found herself smiling. "Nope. Goodnight, Castle."

"Goodnight, Kate."

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><p><em>AN: I'm off to my theatre final. Give me some nice words to come back to?_


	14. Clue

_**Disclaimer: I didn't get them for Christmas, so their still property of someone with a higher pay grade.**_

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><p>The loft was crowded. The heat from the bodies combined with the warmth from the fireplace to make everyone just a little sleepy. The huge quantities of food that had been consumed probably didn't hurt either.<p>

But now, everyone was sitting on the carpeted ground in the living room, the couch and chairs pushed to the edge of the room to make sure everyone had a spot. And nearly everyone was paired up, shoulders touching or hands brushing each other, glances exchanged.

Until Castle pulled out the board games. Then all good manners were tossed out the window.

"We have two choices. LIFE or Clue," he said, holding one game in either hand. "But it's really only one choice since I refuse to play Clue against a bunch of cops."

Kate snagged the box containing the mystery game out of Castle's hand with a grin. "Nope. Executive decision says we're playing Clue. All in favor?" she asked, turning to the rest of the room, holding the game out of Castle's reach as she took the vote.

Every hand in the room shot up into the air.

"See? Majority wins." Kate set the box on the ground in front of her, taking the board out and unfolding it.

"Since when is this a democracy?" Castle muttered, sitting next to her.

She ignored him. "We're going to have to play in some teams. There're only so many characters to work with."

Martha quickly claimed Mrs. Peacock. Jenny plucked Professor Plum out of the pile for her and Ryan. Alexis took Mrs. White knowing that no one else would take the old lady. There was a heated battle over Colonel Mustard between Esposito and Castle that resulted with Lanie deciding that she and the Latino detective would be the green piece. Kate picked up the red piece for Miss Scarlet with a teasing glance over at Castle as he smugly set the yellow Colonel Mustard piece on the starting location.

The only one they all trusted to pick the cards for the murderer, weapon, and location was Martha. The older woman snagged the three cards from the piles after shuffling them, placing them into the little manila envelope and setting it in the middle of the board. Kate and Jenny took charge of distributing the weapons to the rooms.

"What're we playing for?" Esposito asked as the rest of the cards were dealt.

"Pride. And I have an extra box of candy canes," Castle said, sitting back against the couch with his cards. Every ounce of his body radiated confidence.

Twenty minutes later, Jenny, Alexis, Lanie, and Martha had given up. The other four were too busy arguing with each other over facts of the case and what theories had been disproven to listen to the civilians' suggestions. The four laymen had gone into the kitchen to make hot chocolate and gossip, leaving Castle, Kate, Esposito, and Ryan huddled on the floor.

"Fine. You know what? You two duke this out," Ryan declared, tossing his cards onto the ground. "Hey Jenny! We're heading out."

The two waved goodbye before letting themselves out of the loft. Esposito and Lanie were at their heels, running to catch the elevator before the doors closed behind Ryan and Jenny.

Martha and Alexis had gone up to bed.

Kate glanced over at Castle, a single brow raised in a silent question. Cards were scattered around the game board from the players who had abandoned ship. The little pawn pieces were standing in various rooms next to murder weapons.

"Were we a little too aggressive?" Castle asked, looking from room to room on the board.

She shrugged. "Or were they too passive? Can't help that they chose to play Clue knowing what our forte is."

"Should we clean up the board?"

"Don't you want to figure out who the murderer was?"

Castle took the challenge. "One last guess each, okay?"

Kate nibbled her lower lip as she looked at the game board as if it were the whiteboard back at the precinct. "I say it was Mr. Green in the kitchen with the rope."

They both checked the cards of the other players until they found that Alexis's deserted cards proved her wrong. Kate crossed her arms, sitting back with her own hand of cards against her chest.

"Alright, Mr. Castle. Let's see if you've learned anything over the past four years."

With a final glance at his cards, Castle took a deep breath. "It was Miss Scarlet," his eyes twinkled as he looked over at the owner of that particular piece, "in the library with the revolver."

The check of the cards had both of them coming up short. Kate blinked over at Castle as he tried to hold in a squeal of delight, grabbing the manila envelope to confirm his guess. And the three little cards inside the envelope did indeed belong to Miss Scarlet, the library, and the revolver. Kate had already started gathering up the cards and playing pieces when Castle took hold of her shoulders and pulled her in for a kiss.

Her initial shock had her jerking away, but his lips followed hers until she linked her hands around his neck.

"You just kissed a murderer. You realize that right?" she asked against his lips playfully.

"Eww…" he said, swiping the back of his hand across his mouth. "Gross." Then he jumped up, walking toward the kitchen. "I'm going to eat my candy canes. You can clean up as part of your community service, Miss Murderer."

Kate rolled her eyes at his childishness but recollected the cards that had fallen when he decided to kiss her and started tapping them into order to put back into the box. Once the game was put away, she got up, only to find herself again tugged against his chest.

"Merry Christmas, Kate. Even though you did murder poor Mr. Boddy."

She pushed up to kiss him, tasting the peppermint from the candy cane. "Back atcha, Castle. Even though you figured me out."

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><p><em>AN: I wrote this for writingaces on tumblr as part of my Castle Drabbles for Presents idea. It's been a while since I've updated _Four Letters_ here and I really liked this little drabble. Lo and behold - it fit the requirements of this story (plus, it's holiday-related)!_

_I hope everyone had a lovely holiday season! The best, from me to you and yours._


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